Debt to be Paid
by xRanax
Summary: The war has ended. At least, Voldemort has been suspended in limbo until such time as all the Horcruxes can be destroyed. Not everybody came out of the war unscathed, and the secrets hidden could quickly become fatal. HHr, RLu, GOC. Next update on Feb. 3
1. Of Second Thoughts and Memories

Debt to be Paid  
By Pisciculus "Little Fish"

**Author's Note:** First, a mega thanks to **NeddyZeeKat** for letting me use her email to set my account up…as well as various other accounts… She knows the reasons. And I also have to thank **Em** for the lines, "Look at the divorce rate. It's appalling. All these damn kids don't know what love is; they just cling onto the first person who claims to love them and accepts to be their partner for life. Who gets married to their first love? Or even their second!" Your online rant is what made the romance line in this story real.

Next, a huge thanks to my beta, **James **_'Mr. Trelawney'_** Potter** of the Portkey Forums, who agreed to help me out even though I warned him that I would attach my annoying self to his hide and probably never let go. And also a thanks to my previous beta, **Jamie**, who would have murdered me if she ever found out that I was writing H/Hr and not H/D (not that I ever wrote H/D). Always a slash fangirler, that one. And as cliché as it is, I have to offer thanks to **my mother**, who is actually really cool and let me attend an MFA Workshop with her, and helped me meet my hero, **Orson Scott Card**, _in person_.

And I offer my endless gratitude to everyone in the fandom, who have helped me so much since that first day nearly seven (or is it six?) years ago when I stumbled across a Mary Sue story and decided it was the best effing thing since sliced effing bread. Gawd, I'm so glad I never posted any of those earlier stories. Seriously.

Anyway, this story is dedicated to **Kar** and **Mac**, who have inspired me by being inspired _by_ me. I've never been so shocked.

**Chapter One  
**Of Second Thoughts and Memories

**T**hree days.

Three days, four hours, twenty-one minutes and thirty-eight seconds.

_Thirty-seven… Thirty-six... Thirty-five..._

The clock read seven o' nine and Ginny felt that waiting for the remaining twenty seconds until seven ten would be just too much for her to take. But she had to wait.

Three days, four hours, nineteen minutes and fifty-two seconds.

_Fifty-one… Fifty…_

She blinked. Had the second hand just gone back a notch?

Great.

Two weeks ago, Ginny had left Hogwarts for the last time. And at the tender age of only seventeen, she was engaged. A part of her cried that he'd proposed for all the wrong reasons.

The war, in a sense, was over. The Dark Lord had been captured and frozen in time, thanks to the brilliance of one Hermione Granger. And Harry said that the aurors were close to finding and destroying the last Horcrux. The Daily Prophet front page had been splattered with headlines such as, "THE PERFECT ENDING – A NEW BEGINNING FOR THE BOY WHO LIVED' and 'LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT – THE CHOSEN ONE'S REWARD.'

_Yes,_ Ginny thought bitterly. _The perfect ending. The Chosen One's reward._ And it was, really, The Perfect Ending. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, and his first love married right out of Hogwarts. The two sidekicks in a relationship more unstable than half the patients at St. Mungos. But _"It's so cute," _some said, even as the reporters at Witch Weekly came up with the radical idea that Hermione was now pregnant.

She wasn't, of course.

Ginny gnawed at her lip, afraid to get out of bed. The same bed she'd slept in every summer for the past seven years, and every night for the previous eleven years before that. The bed which had given her so much comfort was now a curse. It was where she and Harry had first discovered just how far a physical relationship could go.

It was where she had discovered that Harry didn't really love her like _that_.

So why had he proposed?

Seven thirteen, the clock read.

Three days, four hours, forty-seven minutes, and eleven seconds.

_Ten… Nine… Eight… Seven…_

_You should get out of bed now,_ she chided herself. _You have a wedding to plan._

_Six… Five… Four… Three…_

Ginny couldn't even tear her eyes away from the clock, counting down to her doom. The one she had been waiting for more than seven years to face with girlish anticipation.

_Two…_

She couldn't even swing her legs over the edge of her bed. Couldn't even throw the blanket away from her body. For such a lovely summer, the morning of July eleventh had left Ginny shaky and shivering.

_One…_

Seven fourteen. What an ominous minute. It was her date. The day she'd picked out. And now each and every morning and night she would look at the clock; she could not ignore it as the minutes chimed down.

_Seven fourteen._

Ginny didn't wait to see the minutes pass on. _Seven fifteen_ would signify only the first day of their marriage. _Seven sixteen_ and they'd be somewhere in Italy, holding hands as they floated down the watery streets of Venice. _So romantic…_

And yet so utterly depressing.

She swung her feet to the floor, sitting up with a gasp because of how cold the hard wood was. Ginny stood and examined her surroundings. Her room. Still decorated with the girlish vanity stand and contradicting Quidditch posters she had collected throughout her youth. It was strange to think, now, of herself as an adult. She had been only sixteen exactly eleven months ago.

_You're not old enough to be married,_ a small part of her thought. She closed her eyes tight and tried to quell every similar thread in her mind. Get rid of all the evidence. She was happy to be engaged.

She loved Harry more than she could have ever possibly imagined and she could wait for him to fall for her, if it came to that. It was destined to happen, in time, right? That's why they were getting married, right?

_Right?_ She asked herself, with no small amount of desperation. She scuttled around her room and got dressed. Ginny had never been one to just throw on her clothes without a thought. Though she had no meticulous fashion sense, she usually at least cared how she presented herself.

For the past two weeks, she'd been unable to recognize even if her socks were matching. She wore such an odd combination of muggle and wizard attire that even her father was worried for her sanity. Her mother would have, had she been there to care.

Ginny pulled on a pair of beige-colored trousers and a wrinkled t-shirt, probably the same one she'd been wearing the day before. She bounded out of her room and down the stairs and came into the kitchen half expecting to see breakfast set out on the table, even though she knew it wouldn't be.

Because her mother was dead.

"_Everybody report to the Great Hall, **immediately**!"_

_Headmistress McGonagall's voice cut through the Gryffindor common room, which had fallen silent as soon as they heard the crackle and pop of the magical audio system. Ron and Harry had been playing a game of chess, while Hermione diligently wrote an essay for potions. Ginny herself sat beside Harry on the floor, pondering their relationship._

_The rest of the room had been relatively quiet. The only sound was the first years murmuring to one another about how very few peers they had. Others were absorbed in the sinister silence of their own painful memories. But the Headmistress didn't even need to finish speaking before everyone jumped up and hastily complied._

_  
They'd been waiting for this. _

_One of the first years had been crying and was holding a letter in her small, trembling hands. She was the only one who hadn't moved. While Harry, Ron, and Hermione took control of the situation from there, Ginny moved to the girl, immediately recognizing the seal on the letter. _

_It was from the Ministry. _

_The girl looked up at Ginny with wide, dark brown eyes. Noticing her dark skin and dark hair, Ginny easily placed her as Dean Thomas's cousin, Virginia._

"_Hey," Ginny said, kneeling beside the young girl in the midst of everyone leaving. "Come on, we have to go." Perhaps she didn't sound as soft or as understanding as her words suggested, but Virginia looked up at her as if she were an oasis in a sea of desert sand. _

_Ginny understood the feeling. Nobody worried about others' troubles these days. She reached out and grabbed the girl's arm, pulling her up to her feet. "Come on," she said again. "Follow me." _

_Ginny easily managed to catch up with the crowd of Gryffindors, who soon met up with the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws and the few remaining Slytherins in the entrance hall, where they all bustled and shoved to make their way into the sanctuary that was the Great Hall. They'd all practiced this drill several times through the last two months, yet there was no doubt in anyone's mind that this was the real thing._

_The note of panic in McGonagall's voice could have suggested no less._

_Reaching the Great Hall, Ginny lost sight of the little girl Virginia and instead made her way to the outside edges of the crowd, where the elder and more experienced students and professors waited for instruction. She found Harry, Ron, and Hermione talking to Professor Lupin and made a beeline for them._

_Before she was able to reach them, however, somebody grabbed onto her shoulder. Turning and looking up into her mother's worried face, Ginny couldn't help but notice the sky. It was such a clear, lovely blue, and the irony of that was not lost on anybody. Several Hufflepuffs were looking up at the fluffy bunny-shaped clouds and saying that it was a sign for hope. Nothing _bad _could happen on a day like this. It was just too pleasant._

"_You're staying behind."_

_Ginny stared at her mother and shook her head. _No_, she thought, _I will not stay behind. _She had to fight. She had to stand next to Harry while he faced the Dark Lord for what would hopefully be the final time. She had to be a part of it all._

"_Don't argue, Ginevra Weasley," her mother continued with a note of hysteria in her voice. Ginny knew that it was hard on her. She could not stop her sons from going 'out there.' She could not hold back Ron or Fred or George, Percy or Charlie or Bill and Ginny had to let he mother know that she would not be held back, either._

"_I'm going to fight, mum," she said, calmly as she could. Maybe it could be left at that. _

"_You're too young!" Mrs. Weasley nearly shrieked as her eyes grew wide and panicky. "You can't go out there, Ginevra." Ginny knew that her mother was serious. She only ever called her Ginevra when she _reallyreally _meant it. Nevertheless, Ginny felt impatience beginning to well up in her chest. The Aurors were already talking to the group of fighters about their strategy plans. Harry was there with Ron and Hermione, and Ginny would not let herself be left behind. _

"_I am not too young, mum; I can look after myself," Ginny snapped, wrenching her shoulder away from her mother's grasp. "I'm not going to let anything happen to them, OK? I'm not going to let them go out there and risk their lives while I just hide out in here like a…a coward!" As she spoke, a part of Ginny felt guilty. Tears were beginning to well up in her mother's eyes. When she spoke, though, she no longer sounded desperate._

"_You can't go out there, Ginevra," she repeated forcefully, as if that settled matters. "You must stay in here. You are not experienced-"_

Not experienced! _Ginny thought, and only when she saw that her mother had shut up did she realize that she'd said that out loud. "To hell with that, mum, I am too experienced! I fought when I was only eleven, and again when I was fourteen! I am ready for this!" _

_She didn't even give her mother time to respond. She just turned away and spotted Harry's dark head in the crowd that was slowly slinking out of the Great Hall, away from Hogwarts, onto the grounds where the Death Eaters and Voldemort awaited their blood spilt. She followed them, and did not realize that her mother had followed as well._

Ginny looked away from the table and blinked away the guilty tears which had worked their way into the corners of her eyes. _It's foolish to get so wrung up on the past, _she reminded herself. It was the same thing Hermione had been saying to her over and over again ever since it had all ended. _You've got to look toward the future._ And only the future. How bitter a prospect.

Ginny finally decided, after searching through the cupboards and finding only food which her mother should have been preparing, that she had no appetite. She was not hungry, despite the growls of protest her stomach had been making throughout the entire trip downstairs.

_You should go outside,_ she told herself. _You should go find Harry._

But she couldn't gather up the courage.

**A/N: **This chapter was more for character development and an insight into the 'adult' Ginny than anything else. Plot and explanations coming in the next few chapters, and my estimate is that this story will be about fifteen. I might also end up changing the title later on because the idea has kind of changed since I first came up with it, so watch out for that. And please remember to tell me what you think via review. Next chapter should be up next Friday.


	2. Of Little Frogs and Business Trips

Debt to be Paid  
By Pisciculus

**Chapter Two:  
**Of Little Frogs and Business Trips

_Two years later_

Luna Lovegood lived alone.

Well, not exactly _alone_, as she did have her son, her Little Rana. Right now, the little red-haired boy sat on the off-white carpet of Luna's one bedroom apartment, drawing on the pages of a Dr. Suess book with a pen he'd stolen from his mother's desk. Luna couldn't bring herself to tear it away from him. Besides, his artwork made the book more memorable.

But other than her Little Rana, she had nothing. No one to comfort her during the two years she'd spent hidden away in America, away from Hogwarts, away from family, away from home. Who needed _that_, anyway? Luna didn't. Luna had her Little Frog.

The boy really looked rather like a little frog, with wide, slightly buggy blue eyes set on his round, chubby face. Even though his hair was vividly red Luna could imagine it being a deep, dark green. Dark green, like his father had been when his best friend found love and happiness while he hadn't. Dark green, like Luna had turned upon learning that Ginny had found that same happiness, when she herself could not.

"_Maaaaa!"_ the boy whined suddenly, though Luna could not see that anything had changed. A moment before, he'd been giggling, laughing, and cooing at the bright images in his book, before quickly scribbling over that with black ink. Suddenly, though, he'd stopped. He threw the book from him and did his best to stand up, falling on his diapered bum and crying out loudly.

Luna didn't know what to do. She rushed forward and bent to pick up the boy, but before she could get her hands on him, he'd grabbed at a tendril of long blond hair hanging from her head and started giggling again. That was when Luna decided to sit down cross-legged in the middle of her living room and allow her son to yank at her hair, even if it did hurt. Really, it was the least she could offer.

That was how one Ilia Grey found them, when she knocked lightly on Luna's apartment door but didn't bother to wait for an invitation to come inside. Ilia, Rana's babysitter, was a serious young woman, but probably older than Luna herself. She had short brown hair cropped at her chin and severe grey eyes to fit with her name. How she and Luna had become friends was still rather a mystery.

"You're early," Luna observed with a smile, not grimacing as Rana gave a particularly hard tug at her hair.

"I am," said Ilia, looking down at the stained carpet with a bit of disdain, as if sitting on it might harm her somehow. But she sighed heavily and did sit down, smoothing out her crisp blue skirt beneath her legs, which were crossed under her. "Janice had her boyfriend in the room and I wanted nothing to do with it." Ilia always spoke in concise, grammatically and politically correct sentences, but if there was one thing she and Luna had in common, it was their bluntness.

Luna smiled. Though she had since lost much of the dreaminess in her expressions, and the bug-eyed Loony Loopy Lovegood from Hogwarts was a tad more normal, outwardly, than she had been before, she hadn't really changed that much. "Yes. I know the feeling," she said, still smiling as if discussing the whether or asking Ilia for a spot of tea. "Ginny always had someone with her when I would have preferred it just be us."

Ilia shook her head and laughed. "It is nothing like that, Luna," she said. Rana then took notice of Ilia, and, letting go of Luna's hair, crawled over to inspect his babysitter as if he had never seen her before. Of course, really he saw her at least once every other day, if only for a few minutes. Luna took the opportunity and used Rana's absence to extract herself from the floor and straighten her shoulders.

Her sense of style had not changed one small bit since Hogwarts. No longer forced under the oppressive rules of a Hogwarts uniform, Luna wore not the robes of a wizard, but rather, a patchwork skirt that fell to her ankles and a beige sleeveless t-shirt. Radishes still dangled from her ears, along with a pin of paperclips and bottle clips over her left breast-pocket and the same necklace she'd been wearing since her fourth year.

"_You look like a hippie,"_ had been the first words Ilia said to her when they met. _"Only…weirder."_ And that had been the only time Luna had ever seen her soon-to-be friend speechless. Now, getting up to scour the streets of Chicago for Slack-Jawed Snorkacks, which were distant cousins of the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. Well, at least, that's what Luna thought. Of course the fact that had all the 'clues' had led to them living in smoggy cities like London or Chicago had her wondering if the two were really related.

Maybe she'd find a Blibbering Humdinger while she was at it.

Luna left the apartment feeling bereft and alone. She wasn't really looking for those creatures. But she'd managed to convince the Ministry to fund her trip, coming up with enough evidence that those creatures liked populated, run-down places that she'd almost managed to convince her father, even though they both knew that, if they exist, they existed somewhere in northern Europe.

Only the Ministry was probably glad to be getting rid of one of the Loony Loopy Lovegoods. They'd have been more likely to believe Harry Potter if he said the world was about to be sucked up by a black-hole than they were to ever believe a Lovegood of anything.

With her hands crossed over her chest in an almost defensive manner and her eyes downcast in search of something to remind her of why she'd been so happy as a child, Luna did not notice the owl swooping through the narrow streets.

**Y**ou did _WHAT!"_

Hermione just stared at him. She had seen Ron get angry before, in fact, it should not have come as a surprise to her that he just suddenly burst into a fit of yelling like that, as he did it so often. But for something as trivial as this? No. Even _he_ could not be so petty.

"I invited Luna Lovegood," she said. "Why, is that a problem?" Well, obviously it was. Only Hermione didn't know why.

Ron sputtered, his ears turning bright red as he searched for something to say. The two of them, a couple now of about two consecutive weeks, stood outside the Burrow next to the porch. Fortunately, the rest of the family was either out shopping or getting ready for the party for Harry and Ginny's second anniversary. "NO!" Ron shouted. "I mean, _yes!_ Yes it's a bloody problem! Luna Lovegood has no place- no- I mean- no! You can't just _invite _her without telling me, Hermione!"

Hermione glared at him, putting her arms on her hips in a most Mrs. Weasley-esque manner. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "This isn't your anniversary, Ron!"

"And it's not yours either!" he shouted. Now that Hermione allowed herself to search Ron's demeanor, she realized that he wasn't just angry. He was panicking. He was scared.

"No, but it is Harry's!" Hermione snapped right back at him.

"And does Harry know you've invited her?"

"For your information, he _does!"_ If looks could kill... "He thought it was a great idea! And so did Ginny! We haven't seen Luna in _ages_, Ron, and if you don't remember, she was our _friend!"_

Ron sputtered even more, his face turning brighter red than ever she had seen it. Hermione knew that whatever Ron's reasons were for freaking out, it had more to do with the fact that Luna was coming than the fact that Hermione had invited her. She knew they'd had a sort of a tryst back in seventh year, but…

"Friend!" Ron raged. "Since when has she been our friend? She's insane! Mad! And _you never liked her!_ Why the bloody hell would you _invite _her!"

"What on earth are you talking about, Ron? What on earth are you _talking _about? Of course she's our friend! Just because she might have injured your pride in seventh year by dumping you-"

"_SHE. DID. NOT. DUMP. ME!"_

Hermione blinked. And gaped. A few chickens nearby fluttered about in a panic and began shrill cries of fear. She had _never _seen Ron so angry. His red hair paled in comparison to his face; his teeth were barred in a manner reminiscent of a wolf being cornered by bears. A glint of something which almost looked like madness flashed in his eyes.

"Luna Lovegood never dumped me! There was never anything between us in the first place!" Even as he said it, however, they both knew it was a lie. _"You're_ inviting her because _you _don't want me anymore! You think if she comes you'll be able to pawn me off on her! Well why didn't you just _tell _me you were sick of me, Hermione! Why didn't you just _break up with me_ if you're so eager to get rid of me!"

Hermione finally managed to get her voice back. _"That is not true, Ronald Weasley!"_ she shrieked, tears welling in her eyes. She had so hoped that this time, this time they would last…but she should have known. They'd broken up and 'gotten together' more times in the last two years than Hermione could even count. Her arms moved from her hips to her chest, where they crossed defensively as if protecting her heart from the pain she knew she was about to face. _Why can't we ever make this work?_ She asked herself, feeling pathetic. _Why can't we ever last?_

"It is to and you know it!" Ron yelled. "And if that's how it is, then _FINE!_ See if I care! I'm gone! It's over! BYE!" He turned and for a moment looked as if he wanted to slam something. When he couldn't find anything to slam, or throw for that matter, he simply disapperated, leaving Hermione feeling emptier than she had in ages.

Ron packed his bags the very same day, and apologized to his sister and his best friend for not being there for the celebration. His faction of Aurors at the Ministry had found evidence which might lead to the discovery of the last missing Horcrux in Algeria. Ron hadn't even been thinking when he'd told them this, but it was the best excuse he could think of.

Unfortunately, Harry was an Auror too.

There was a knock on the flat's door, which Ron pointedly ignored as he continued packing robes and random trinkets he thought he might want on his 'business trip.' The knock came again, more insistently. Ron had to rely on the age-old _if I ignore it, it will go away_ philosophy and went on pretending as if he'd heard nothing.

The knock came again. Ron scowled. "Go away Hermione!" he yelled.

Silence. _Good,_ Ron thought. Then…

_Knock… Knock… Knock…_

"WHAT DO YOU-"

"Ron, it's me."

Ron blinked. "Oh," he said meekly. That voice didn't belong to Hermione; in fact, it didn't even belong to a _girl_. It was definitely Harry. Ron, feeling like an idiot, stopped packing and went to the door, opening it with no small amount of hesitation.

"It's about bloody time," said Harry, watching Ron carefully. "I was beginning to think I might have to wait out here all day."

"Sorry Harry," Ron said. "I thought…"

Harry's face softened and he reached out and put a hand on Ron's shoulder. "I know," he said. Then he shook his head, taking the hand away. "But obviously I'm not Hermione." He grinned.

"Oi," Ron said, annoyed, and went back to his packing. He soon found, however, that he'd had everything he needed and had no other choice but to simply close his suitcase and find out what Harry was doing here. The feeling of unease in Ron's stomach did not make him particularly excited for the upcoming confrontation, but it was, alas, inevitable.

"Ron," Harry begun seriously when Ron walked over to the kitchen and pulled two butterbeers out of the fridge, "What's all this about the final Horcrux being in _Algeria?"_

Ron handed a butterbeer to Harry, who accepted it with a nod. "It's…um…" Ron began, but he didn't quite know how to go on. Harry sighed heavily.

"You're a bloody awful liar," he accused. "You _know _that if any such information had been found, I would have been informed." That wasn't conceit speaking, it was the truth and they both knew it. Harry Potter was still the Boy Who Lived, who had his face posted on the front page of the tabloids at least once every other week. He was important, he was the Chosen One, and he was the savior of the wizarding world.

Ron ran a hand through his hair, giving a frustrated sigh as he sat down across the bar from Harry. "Yeah, you're right. It's just, I needed to get away, you know? Before…" He paused, shifting guiltily in his chair.

"That eager to miss my anniversary?" Harry asked, although it didn't sound, even for a moment, as if he begrudged his best friend that desire.

"No, not exactly," Ron said. "It's just…"

"It's about Luna, isn't it?"

Ron blinked, staring at Harry. "How did…?"

Harry shrugged. "I didn't know," he said. "I guessed. Look, Hermione told me about how you reacted when you found out. She wouldn't shut up about it, actually." He glared at Ron, the glare an older brother gives the man who broke his sister's heart, or even perhaps something more.

Ron looked away.

"Look…we…I made a stupid mistake that year. We thought…_I _thought, that it was the last year we'd have on earth. To be alive, you know?" Harry's eyebrows nearly shot into his hairline, comprehension beginning to dawn in those emerald green eyes of his.

"I see," was all he said.

Ron shuddered. "No, I don't think you do," he sighed. "I was a coward Harry."

"And you're going to continue to be one?" Harry's gaze had become intent. Ron withered beneath it, wishing he had someway out of the entire situation. Oh wait, he did. He had a portkey that left in ten minutes.

"Look," he said, "I have to go. I guess…I guess I could come back before Luna leaves." Ron bit his lip nervously, hoping Harry wouldn't confront his lie. "Thanks," Ron said to the awkward silence, not sure what he was thanking Harry for.

Harry watched Ron move and collect his bag with narrowed eyes, and only then did Ron realize that Harry hadn't opened his butterbeer. Sighing, he took his wand.

"Bye, Harry," he said, before dissaperating with a loud 'pop!'

Only then did Harry twist the cap off his bottle. "Bye, Ron," he said almost enviously into the emptiness, taking a swig.

**A/N:** Thanks, once again, to my Beta Reader, James 'Mr. Trelawney' Potter from the Portkey Forums. And also to the two of you who put this story on your favorites, but _didn't review_. Come on…you know you wanna. :grin: Anyway, next update will be on February 3. See, I've set up a nice, once-weekly schedule here. Luffs! -Little Fish


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